


An Hour’s Respite

by roxyryoko, WriterSine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, I wanna take a ride on your Imperial stick, Let’s have some fun, Let’s just skip the C and B and A supports, Loss of Virginity, hook-up challenge prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22332811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterSine/pseuds/WriterSine
Summary: The conquering of Fort Merceus should be a triumph, but not for Mercedes and Caspar. Her brother is dead, and Caspar knows what awaits him in Enbarr. Late at night they find themselves alone and take solace where it can be found.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Mercedes von Martritz, Caspar von Bergliez/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	An Hour’s Respite

**Author's Note:**

> The Fellanie Discord posed the challenge to write a non-romantic hook-up smut fic with an assigned off-the-wall ship, and using our combined forces [Writersine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterSine/pseuds/WriterSine) and I collaborated on this Caspar X Mercedes fic! These two should have had some supports, but oh well, we skipped that! We think we came up with a rather sweet story and hope you do too!

Much had been gained during the siege on Fort Merceus, but it felt like so much more had been lost. Yes, Imperial morale now suffered, but countless lives had slipped through Mercedes’s fingers. So many wounds her magic could not mend, so many people she could not save. Comrades. Friends.

_Emile._

_Emile_ , _so tall, now. A man in steel armor, cold to the touch and heavy in her arms. It’s raining. Cold droplets fall onto her bare neck, soaking into her clothes. Mixing with her tears on Emile’s face. He says her name and Mercedes touches his cheek. It’s clammy under her fingers. She doesn’t want to leave him again but there’s no time. They have to go._

Mercedes is grateful to find the kitchens inside the fort had survived the battle relatively undamaged. Unlike the monastery where rations constantly produced empty shelves, it is well stocked with supplies. 

Outside the guard calls out the hour: “Two o’ clock and all is well!”

Mercedes picks up a wooden paddle and opens the oven door. Heat washes over her, chasing the chill away. She blinks watering eyes and she slides the paddle inside and under the baking bread. The aroma they emit is tantalizing and the yeast has risen well. These will undoubtedly be a treat for the soldiers tomorrow. The march here had been hard and the biscuits even harder. Even at the monastery, bread never looked this appetizing during the war. 

The thought of her friends eagerly devouring this bread tomorrow morning brings a brief smile to her lips.

Drawing out the finished loaves, she turns and gasps at the figure standing at the kitchen door. In times past, she might muse that she mistook him for a spector, file the image of his shadowed form away to use as material for a good ghost story. But, no, she didn’t want to think about ghosts right now. Fortunately, it’s Caspar.

Their gazes meet and he jumps back slightly. She smiles, imbuing in it an assurance she doesn’t feel. Her lips only tremble a little when she says, "Hello, Caspar. Are you hungry?"

"Oh, hey, Mercedes," he replies, uneasiness etched in his voice, and a forced grin on his lips. "Sure, I'm always up for some good food." 

Caspar steps into the kitchen, but remains at a distance from her. He relaxes, leaning back against a cabinet, crossing both his arms and his legs. He inhales deeply and looks around at the ingredients, dirty bowls, rolling pins, and other kitchenware scattered about the long table. "Guess you couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Mercedes slides the loaves onto a rack to cool and picks up one of the five loaves already there. 

"No, not really,” she admits as she draws the bread knife from the rack. “So I thought we may as well take advantage of Fort Merceus's kitchens while we're here." She cuts two slices, butters them, and offers them to Caspar. 

He doesn’t take them at once, staring around the kitchen, his gaze unfocused. There’s a tightness around his eyes and his brows drawn. When she steps closer he shakes himself and takes the slices with another forced smile. 

“It must be strange to see this place again after everything that's happened,” she says.

Caspar tears a piece off with less enthusiasm than normal and shoves it in his mouth. Still chewing he responds, "Yeah, it is.” He swallows and looks around, eyes full of ghosts. “I used to run all over this place as a kid, playing soldier, wielding Thunderbrand to save Adestria from some big evil enemy. Used to get into all sorts of trouble from guards. From my father." He pulls another piece apart and his voice lowers, stricken by regret. "But now I'm not just playing soldier anymore. And now I’m the enemy."

For a moment they’re silent, then she says, "It can be hard to face something from your past and realize that it changed while you were away." She turns and goes back to the kitchen counter to begin the next batch.

"I wonder if my father will see how much I've changed. If he'll see how much stronger I've gotten."

Mercedes starts kneading, and glances over her shoulder to look at him. She smiles gently. "No matter what happens, I'm sure he will. You've grown a lot since our academy days." She returns to the dough, and sprinkles more flour on top. Bringing down both fists she puts her shoulders into pushing it, folding it, shaping it.

 _Rip. Munch._ Caspar’s chewing echoes against the low crackle of the oven. 

"The March on Enbarr’s bound to be very difficult. Is that what's keeping you up?"

Caspar swallows another piece of bread. "Yeah," he sighs. "I’m sure we’ll run into my father. I always knew we'd fight him eventually. He's the Minister of Military Affairs, of course we would. I just- I'll be okay though." His voice cracks slightly and he looks down at the remaining slice, avoiding Mercedes's concerned gaze.

Mercedes dusts off her hands and takes a step toward him. "It's hard to face family on the opposite side of the battlefield.” She offers an empathetic smile. "You're very brave Caspar to side with the Kingdom against the Empire. I haven't lived in the Empire since I was small. But this place has always been your home. It's natural to feel some sorrow over returning to your home with an army." She touches his forearm.

He glances down at her hand briefly before catching her gaze again, brows furrowed. "How are you holding up? I gotta admit, I'm pretty worried about you."

"I'm sorry to cause you to worry." Mercedes swallows. 

He frowns. “You know, no one’s gonna blame you for being upset. He was your brother, even if he was the Death Knight.” 

She shutters and looks at the ground. "I admit, I can't stop thinking about Emile." Her voice breaks as she says his name. Mercedes covers her mouth with one hand.

"Mercedes..." Caspar's face twists in concern. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry." He takes a hesitant step towards her. “I—“ Suddenly he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’m not good with words and nothing I say will make it better, but, uh, we’re pals, remember? You can talk to me about it.”

Caspar's arms are firm and strong around her, crushing her to his chest. The sensation of being held breaks through her rising grief. She can feel the timber of Caspar's voice and it draws Mercedes back to herself. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and pushes away, her palms flat against his chest. "Thank you for being a kind friend, Caspar. I really don’t want to be a bother." Mercedes withdraws her hands. "I should finish the bread. I-”

She turns away and grabs the paddle with trembling hands. It slips from her grasp. Mercedes stoops, trying to catch it.

“Woah!” Caspar exclaims and makes his own failed grab at the utensil. It bounces off his palm and clatters to the ground. “I got it,” he assures as he crouches down to retrieve it.

Mercedes falls to her knees beside him and reaches for the paddle. "That was so clumsy of me!" 

Her hand bumps into his. She looks up to see Caspar's concerned face only centimeters away. Mercedes's lips part.

His fingers close around the utensil. “It’s no big deal.” He offers her a grin as he holds out the paddle.

Mercedes puts her hand on his. Heat rises to her cheeks. Her chest has been aching since Emile fell under the professor's sword. Her throat choked with tears there was no time to shed. She remembers the surprised relief of his hug. His hand under hers is warm and square. She lifts her face to his and kisses him, chasing the warmth of his friendship to banish the cold sorrow of her grief, if only for a little while.

Caspar goes still under her lips. He even stops breathing.

Mercedes's heart drops. _What am I doing?_ she thinks and starts to pull away, ready to apologize.

Caspar grabs her and his mouth mashes against hers. His tongue presses against the seam of her lips, eagerly attempting to deepen the kiss. Mercedes wonders if he’s chasing comfort too. It’s been a long five years. She knows she shouldn’t complain. Others have it worse. But tonight the burden of her pain has grown heavier and she doesn’t want to carry it anymore.

Their noses bump and she angles her head to better accommodate them. She opens her mouth to let him in. Their tongues caress. Mercedes loses herself in the demanding kiss and the insistent press of Caspar's mouth. His hand shifts to cup her face and he pokes her ear, clumsily tender. She intertwines her fingers with his and holds on. The paddle falls to the floor again, forgotten.

The kiss is sloppy and wet and desperate. His mouth tastes of butter and sugar, bitter and sweet like an indulgence. Their teeth click together and lips fumble to find a rhythm to the dance. 

He presses closer, closer, weight pouring on top of her, and Mercedes loses her balance. The kiss—the spell—is broken and she crashes into the floor. Caspar tumbles down on top of her.

When he pulls up, coming to his hands and knees, his breath escapes in heavy wheezes. His eyes are wide with excitement but his voice is full of alarm. "Mercedes, are you alright?" Caspar draws back further and his hand brushes her breast. A blush darkens his cheeks. 

"I'm fine." Mercedes props herself up on her elbows. There's a raw need in her that she's never felt before. It scares her a little, but she knows that Caspar won't hurt her and that's enough. "Please, don't stop."

“I, uh…” The conflicted expression twists more.

His eyes fall to her chest, then slide back up to her face.

"I don't mind if you touch them."

His flush darkens, and she can see his throat contracting as he gulps. 

Dry, monotone laughter stumbles out of his lips. “We’re both acting really weird. Let’s, uh, take a moment to think.“ He inches further back. “I know I can...rush into stuff, but that’s not you, Mercedes.”

Shame fills her, bringing a hot flush to Mercedes’s cheeks. She looks away and pushes herself back so she can sit up without being under Caspar. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself all day. I know it's selfish, but for now I just need to not be me.” She looks up, defiant. “I'm so tired, Caspar. I'm tired of hurting.” 

“Mercedes…”

A small smile crosses her face. “Maybe it’s strange but a little impulsivity sounds nice right now.” She swallows and smooths her skirts. “Unless you don’t want to, that is.”

Caspar’s gaze wanders down to her breasts again before snapping back up to her face.

“Don’t you think-” He clears his throat and tries again.”I don’t want you to do this just cuz- Just cuz you’re in pain.” He lets out a deep breath. “But if you just wanna mess around a bit to forget stuff...I guess, I could be into that. But I-”

He glances away and quietly admits, “I haven’t really kissed anyone before. Or done other...stuff.” 

“I haven’t, either.”

“Oh. That’s, uh, that’s surprising.” His voice shakes a little.

“When I was at the Officer’s Academy, I had my family to consider. My adoptive father was planning marriage proposals for me and I wanted to be a dutiful daughter. Then the war happened. I know it may seem like a frivolous thing to want right now, but,” Mercedes takes a deep shuddering breath, “I realized that maybe if I’d acted differently five years ago, done the things that I wanted to do instead of what was expected of me, things wouldn’t have- Things would be different. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to pursue the things that will make me happy.”

He looks in her eyes, unusually serious. “I’d like you to live like that too, Mercedes.” He shrugs. “That’s how I live and I think it’s worked out pretty well. But I don’t think this will make you happy or take away your grief.” 

“I know that, Caspar. But if you’re worried that tomorrow I’ll decide kissing you was a mistake, please don’t trouble yourself with such thoughts.”

He scrambles to amend his words. “I- no! I don’t think it’s a mistake. I just worry that this, whatever _this_ is, you’ll regret, and I- I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

She smiles shyly. “I trust you, Caspar. You’re a good friend. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” 

“So,” he begins, disbelief in his tone. “You really wanna just make out?”  
  
She nods.

He heaves a sigh. “Fine. I admit. I liked it. A lot.”

Mercedes smiles sweetly. She leans toward him, hesitates a moment to let him pull away. When he doesn’t she kisses him, gently but persistently. They have tonight. It will be enough, she just needs to make it through tonight. Mercedes pulls away just enough to see Caspar’s face.

Caspar’s eyes flash with something dark and hungry that she’s seen in them on the battlefield, and he lunges back to snap up her lips in a bruising, primal kiss. He tugs her to him, crushing her against his chest. The ferocity sends a shiver up Mercedes’ spine and she pushes all reservations from her mind. She doesn’t want to think or hurt. She just wants to _live_.

Her arms snake around his broad shoulders, and her fingers weave through his short hair, caressing gentle circles. 

Her moan surprises both of them when Caspar’s teeth tug gently on her lower lip, and Mercedes lets herself relish in the unexpected pleasure. Her fingers rake through his hair, nails grazing his scalp. Caspar gasps. His mouth moves to her cheek and hers to his. He kisses her jaw and she kisses his ear. He trails his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking gently on her pulse point. She tilts her head back to give him more access. His mouth is warm and wet, his lips firm against her skin. Goosebumps rise on Mercedes’s arms.

Caspar’s mouth reaches the neckline of her blouse. His teeth grate against her flesh before they bite. _Too rough._

Mercedes yelps and Caspar jolts back. His cheeks are flushed and his lips look swollen from their kisses. 

Before he can apologize she beats him to it. “Sorry. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

He seems wounded, but attempts a brave face, muttering. “I’ll be more gentle.”

Then Mercedes gasps, catching sight of white hand prints and smears across his outfit. “Oh dear, I’m getting flour all over you.” 

“Whatever.” He shrugs and draws closer to her again until stopped by her palms pressing against his chest.

“No, really, I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of you,” she insists and begins to brush it off his shoulder. He immediately swats her hands away, but afterwards takes a moment to inspect himself. He seems surprised at the result and yanks his shirt off in a quick motion, revealing toned abs and countless scars.

“Oh, my,” she squeaks, and the way he flushes convinces her he didn’t _think_ before his action.

Mercedes’s fingers twitch and she hesitantly extends her hand. “May I?” 

He nods. Encouraged, she presses her fingers against his chest and feels the muscle instantly tense. She glances up for reassurance.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, catching her eye before nervously looking away.

She glides her fingers along his pectorals, tracing the rises and dips of old wounds. She wonders if he knows the story of each one, but doesn’t breathe life to the question. Her hands move up to his collarbone and then to his shoulders, following the curve of his muscles down his arms. He really grew into a man during the war.

He lets out a shaking breath that he must have been holding. 

Mercedes spots a scar across his shoulder and chest that looks more recent than some of the others. It’s mostly healed and pink. “Did you get that in the skirmish a few days ago?”

He laughs ruefully. “Yeah, some guy got too close to Lysithea and I threw myself in front of her.”

“It must have hurt.”

“Nah, it’s fine! Barely felt it.”

“Even so, looks like your body needs a little help with recovery,” Mercedes says. She leans forward and brushes her lips across the scar, moving downward. A whisper of magic escapes with each soft breath and touch of her mouth to Caspar’s skin. The scar shrinks and heals further.

He laughs nervously. “Thanks, uh, for that.”

Feeling bolder, Mercedes braces one hand against his chest and kisses him over his heart. Caspar goes uncharacteristically still. She moves lower, a kiss under his ribs. Then a kiss on his muscled abdomen. As she pulls back a third time her gaze drops to his lap. The crotch of his trousers is tented, the fabric straining to contain his erection. Heat rushes to her cheeks. “Oh my,” she breathes.

Caspar’s face runs crimson, and he shifts awkwardly away from her, lifting his legs as if that could hide it. He stammers for an explanation. “S-sorry! I- I, uh- you-”

She shakes her head. “It’s only, um, natural. And...I’m enjoying myself too.” Her voice doesn’t hide her own embarrassment.

An awkward silence brews between them. A dangerous time to think and remember.

“I haven’t been very fair,” Mercedes says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Caspar’s brows furrow in bewilderment. “I...I touched you, but you haven’t touched...me.”

“Oh.”

She nods encouragingly, puffing out her chest, and scooches forward. “It’s alright. Really.”

Caspar smirks, mischievous and confident. “What the hell. Let’s have some fun, Mercedes!” 

She slides even closer, against his legs.

He reaches hastily and cups her breast in one hand, lifting it gently. It fills his palm. His thumb brushes her nipple through her blouse and Mercedes lets out a whimper. Caspar gives her breast a slight squeeze and Mercedes lets out a gasp.

“Feels pretty great, huh?” Caspar teases.

“I’m not very used to it, but...yes, I like it.”

He switches to her other breast. “They’re so heavy, how do you fight with them?”

Mercedes lets out a breathy laugh. “Sometimes it’s difficult.” After a moment she adds sheepishly, “Your hands feel good.”

He swallows and reaches for the buttons of her blouse. He glances back up for approval, and she grants it. The buttons give him some difficulty and Caspar frowns, teeth grinding together. The first one rips off with a little _pop_ and he mumbles an apology. The second follows more easily, staying intact. At last, her chest is exposed. 

Caspar gulps again and his eyes strain wide.

“It’s okay.” She grabs his hand with a delicate touch and presses his palm into her chest. His hand is sweaty and shakes.

His fingers tentatively flex and at last he finds the courage to slip inside her brassier. He brushes his thumbs over her nipples. They tighten under his ministrations. His fingers are calloused and rough. Mercedes moans as pleasure ripples through her.

Her eyes fall on his lips where a small victorious grin tugs. Slightly amused, she presses another kiss against his mouth and accidentally presses her hip up against his cock. 

Caspar moans loudly. And whatever restraint or reservations he had shatters. He squeezes her breast almost savagely, and uses his other hand to force her closer. Mercedes ends up in his lap, straddling him. Her skirt bunches up around her hips. 

Heat rises on Mercedes's neck when she feels how hard he is. She's also conscious of his bare chest against hers, light touches that send whisps of pleasure through her.

Caspar draws her forward, then bends and covers her nipple with his mouth. Mercedes arches into him, hands going to his shoulders to keep from falling backward. Her eyelids flutter shut as sensations overwhelm her. Caspar's hot, wet tongue lapping and swirling around her nipple. His hands, firm at her waist holding her close. She can feel his cock through their clothes, pressing against her clit. Every slight movement causes him to rub against her. Tension builds inside her, like a powerful spell she's not yet ready to unleash.

He switches from one breast to the other. The kitchen air is cool against her wet skin. Mercedes shivers slightly. Her hands tighten on Caspar's muscled shoulders. "Oh, Goddess!"

She bucks against him and he tenses, hissing hot breath on her nipple. Caspar reels back, releasing her, and there’s a wild grin on his face. Mercedes reclaims his mouth, seeking the escape of his touch. He returns the enthusiasm in the kiss, searing tongue colliding with hers, and his hands grip her hips in desperation as she tests different ways to roll her pelvis against him, eliciting lascivious groans and moans from him.

She reaches her hand between them and _feels_ him. She can taste his gasp that follows. Her fingers feather down the seam of his pants, and his groan echoes in the quiet kitchen. _So that was what it feels like._ Caspar buries his face in the crook of her neck and stretches up against her.

In the next instant his arms flex around her, lifting her body. Mercedes’s back hits the floor and Caspar presses her pelvis to his, grinding against her. She gasps. Her skirts are rucked up around her waist. His breath is loud in her ear and his mouth wet on her neck. Mercedes fingers rake across his shoulders and he grunts.

He pulls back a bit, enough for her to see concern warring with lust on his face.

She smiles. “Don’t stop. I want to...” The words are breathless. She reaches between them for her underclothes, fumbling with the laces to her bloomers. 

Caspar’s eyes are on her, watching with held breath.

Mercedes bites her lip. “I don't mean to seem selfish, but I'd like to know,” she says, the wild impulsivity carrying her like a river. She tugs the laces again.

The doubt on his face vanishes and a big frenzied grin unfurls. Caspar’s voice is smug when he speaks. “Oooh-hoo, you’re pretty naughty, Mercedes. Let’s do this!” Laughter booms out of him. It’s contagious and she finds herself giggling along with him.

He notices her struggling and reaches for the waistband of her underclothes. His hands are trembling as they brush over hers, grappling for the ties. He pulls and the knot tightens. They both fumble more, his fingers tangling in her own and ghosting her bare skin. 

“Sorry, I’m not much help,” he chuckles.

“It’s pretty tricky for me too,” she laughs.

At last, the knot is free. She feels the waistband loosen. Mercedes lifts her hips and Caspar backs away on his knees, drawing the garment down her legs and over her boots. He tosses the lacy bloomers aside. 

Heat creeps over Mercedes’s face and neck at the sudden, irrevocable absence of her underclothes. She resists the urge to tug down her skirt and petticoat. They’re going to do it. She swallows and looks at Caspar. Color is high in his cheeks as well. Mercedes opens her legs, slow and trembling.

Without reservation, Caspar pulls his pants down. His cock emerges, hard and erect. Mercedes realizes she’s staring and looks away. He kneels between her legs and his arms wrap around her, surprisingly tender. He trails soothing kisses along her jaw and Mercedes relaxes slightly. Her hands find his face and she places a chaste anxious smooch on his lips.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” His voice is deep and his eyes half-lidded.

Slightly annoyed, she kisses him deeper and when she pulls away for air, he chuckles. He surges back, mouth crashing into hers, and those rough hands tug at her hair and roam down her thighs. She moans and her own hands glide across his back, pressing him closer. 

“You good?” His voice comes out like a plea. Strained and lustful.

She nods. “Just go slow.”

He laughs shakily. “Not exactly what I’m known for, but I’ll try.” 

Caspar lines himself up at her entrance, and looks up at her for permission one last time. She nods, a wavering smile on her face. He pushes inside her and his breath hitches.

The uncomfortable feeling of being stretched rolls through her, cutting through the exhilarating arousal. A little cry escapes her lips. Caspar freezes.

“Keep going,” she says, trying to relax. “I’m alright.”

Looking nervous, his eyes fixed on her face, Caspar pushes in further. She feels him filling her, solid and hard and relentless. 

"Are you all the way in?" 

He stops. "Not yet."

"Oh," she says, with a little, breathless laugh. "There's more?" 

"I'm almost there! I think." Caspar thrusts in a little farther. Then farther still. Mercedes bites her lip. However, she can feel herself adjusting, the strain of the stretch easing. 

Caspar stops. "Here we go!" He hesitates a moment, then starts sliding back out. 

The feeling of Caspar rubbing against her was heady. But the feeling of his skin dragging against hers combined with the relief of him pulling partway out is intoxicating. Thoughts vanish, and all Mercedes can do is hold Caspar as she moves with him, stare at the stone ceiling above them, and let the sensations wash over her. 

He thrusts, quicker than when he entered her. The tension in Mercedes tightens further. She rolls her hips, as much as she's able.

Caspar growls, pulls out and snaps his hips into her again. He gasps and stops. His body shudders and something wet and sticky fills her insides. His eyes are wide, mouth half-open. Every muscle tensed.

"Caspar?" 

He gasps again and relaxes, half falling on top of her. Caspar presses his red face into the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, Mercedes," he says between panting breaths. "I tried to hold it together." 

It takes her a moment for her to understand. Mercedes gasps, “Oh, dear.”

“I’m sorry!” he whines. “I thought I had more in me than that!”

“No, it’s my fault. I encouraged all this.”

“I’ll fix it!” Suddenly his hand is on her thigh. Mercedes squirms. His rough fingertips brush against her entrance and one hastily slips inside. She shivers. A breathy moan bursts from her throat. He plunges again. And again.

She bites her lip and shakily weaves her hand between them. Her fingers wrap around his palm, guiding him. “Here, like this,” she says. 

He follows her lead and when his calloused thumb brushes over her clit, the pleasure blinds her. She bucks and pulls him closer. “A, um, second finger, please.”

“Y-yeah, you got it!” He obliges and a fire lights within her.

She grasps him tighter, rocking into his hand, chasing the delightful sensation of his clumsy yet determined circles and pumps. She feels lightheaded. Her body feels flushed with heat. The tension within her coils, hotter and tighter. Mercedes presses herself into Caspar's hand as he thrusts his fingers up, crooked against her. 

The tension builds, writhing, like magic coursing through her veins, swelling up, stronger, stronger, empowering, until it rips from her body in an explosion of force and life. Mercedes cries out and bucks her hips. Euphoria sweeps through her, leaving her floating. It's a strange kind of peace. She draws in a deep, shuddering breath and her eyes fill with tears. A soft sob escapes as the climax ebbs, leaving her trembling and quietly weeping in Caspar's arms.

His face swims into view. "Mercedes."

She shakes her head and blots the tears. More fall anyway, sliding down her cheeks and into her hair. "I'm alright, Caspar. I just needed to let this out." She sniffs and wipes her eyes again. 

From outside they hear the distant call of the guard, “Three o’ clock and all is well!"

Caspar clutches her close. “I got you,” he whispers. 

She manages a small smile. “Thanks, _pal._ ”

Caspar laughs, breath tickling her neck. It makes him sound almost boyish. Her friend and comrade, warm to the touch and light in her arms. Cold droplets fall onto his bare neck. He says her name and Mercedes touches his cheek.

There’s time.

They don’t have to go.

  
  
  
**END**  
  
  
  



End file.
